Love is not in Our Cards
by BelieveAndDoWhat
Summary: The war is not done, but the Dark Lord has taken over the Wizarding World. Things are so different now with muggleborn witches forced to act as Courtesans. Hermione is among them, living each day in the arms of different men. Love is not an option for her anymore. For Draco, it never was. HGXDM


A/N I'm trying to update on TJDM, but I haven't the inspiration for it yet and I had this one stuck in my head. I don't promise any updates soon, but I do promise that I will try. So, anyways, here it is. Please Read and REVIEW! Love x

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The year is 1990 and Voldemort has taken control of the Wizarding World. Harry didn't die, no, but he was gravely wounded during the Battle at Hogwarts. There were two options, let him stay and fight, possibly killing him, or take him away so he could recover fully and fight another day. The Order chose the second option. There were many deaths, but none of the Weaseley's were among them. Lupin and Tonks had escaped with Harry, sporting dangerous wounds. Luckily, Teddy did not lose his parents.

That was not the case for Hermione. Both her parents were dead and she was now under the care of the Ministry. Yes, she was technically of age, but with Voldemort at it's head, all muggleborns -whether of age or not- were forced to live cooped there, which was nothing more than a space crawling with snatchers. Though it was quickly seen that it was not needed.

You see, Hermione was captured. It was May 8, 1998 and she hadn't counted on being ambushed when leaving the boat house. Running back with Harry and Ron, they met a group of death eaters and while she and Ron fought, they tried to get Harry to safety. He was hit with a spell. Ginny and Lupin arrived to their aide as the raven-haired boy ran to the Headmaster's office, towards the pensieve.

Hermione didn't remember much about the next few seconds. She remembered her wand flying out of her hand and into someone else's and she remembered hands, rough hands snatching her up by the hair and a thick voice. "Yer comin' with us, beautiful." Just before she was hit with a stunning spell, she heard Ron yell and her eyes caught a brief glimpse of her scarf around Scabior's neck.

Now, two years later, all muggleborn girls over the age of 15 are forced to work as courtesans, enchanting any pureblood witch or wizard that paid the master. A master could be any pureblood male over the age of 17 who desired to start his own business. They could take all of the women they employed and move them under one roof. It was a dark life, a lonely one. Those under the age of 15 were to live as slaves in any household that bought them. The male muggleborns would be assistants to the purebloods, or slaves as well, sometimes, they would jut be used for entertainment.

A cold life, but much better than being dead. She would never wish to be dead. No, she wanted to see Harry rise again, see the Dark Lord defeated. Because that day would come, she just knew. In the meantime, she lived day to day, her head held down in the only life she knew after the Battle.

This is her life now and this is her story.

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The days were dark all over. The clouds in the skies were storming grey and the sound of thunder was everywhere. Hermione was used to this, however, they all were. She walked gracefully down the steps of the home, fastening her robe easily, bringing her arms to her neck and pulling off the huge necklace. It was golden vines with rubies adorning it. This was not the first time she got gifts from men. No, she often received them after a job well done. She was good at what she did because it took her into higher ranks. At first, she started with only pleasing lowly purebloods, but eventually she landed her first elitist pureblood, Cormac McLaggen. Her job disgusted her, it always would, but she did what she had to to survive, to help her settle into the laps of death eaters and purebloods alike.

As she passed by a group of women, huddling together in a corner, she dropped the necklace into their cup, watching it turn into it's galleons worth. The women cried happily, but she didn't stop to look at them. Instead, she took a sharp left, walking down the empty street before apparating. She landed in a dirt road that led to a Château. It was amazing, really and if it wasn't the place that held her captive, she'd think it was beautiful.

Three stories tall, made of beautiful white, sparkling brick, the chateau glittered brightly in contrast to the sky. It had three towers, four wings, 32 bedrooms, 20 bathrooms, one kitchen, a formal dining room, a casual dining room, a small living room and a Main living room. Not to mention, the parlor and a foyer. An outhouse held 13 other rooms and six bathrooms, as well as two kitchens, one living room, and a dining room.

Hermione walked up to the pearl white gate, lifting her hand and placing her index finger on the lock. Immediately, a holographic man appeared in from of the gate, wand out. "Subject Name?"

Hermione brought her hand down into his own, his fingers closing around her wrist. "99-07-123-0"

A bright light emitted from the Nan's wand, hitting her wrist. "Scanning for: 99-07-123-0." A minute passed and Hermione began to grow impatient. "Scanning complete. Welcome to Le Château des Courtisanes, Courtesan Granger."

The gates parted and Hermione walked slowly down the rest of the dirt road, up the steps,the train of her satin robe trailing behind her. Her black heels hit the stone steps lightly, announcing her presence to the men in the foyer. "Oh, here she comes." Her hands went to the doorknobs o the two French doors and she pulled them open with ease, her black robes billowing behind her. "Ah, Miss Granger."

"Master." Hermione fell gracefully to her knees before Rodolphus Lestrange, her head bowed down. He places his hand before her and she kissed it, lifting her eyes to look up at him. Smirking, she stood, turning to the other men in the room. "Monsieur Malfoy, Monsieur Lefevre, Monsieur Zabini, Monsieur Malfoy" She kissed their hands each before taking a step back, placing her hands before her, as was custom. Rodolphus placed his hand on her back gently, leading her to take a seat in the parlor. She crossed her legs, the robe falling open at the slit giving Lucius a good view of her long legs. She leant back in the chair, her hands moving to her hair, moving the pin out to let it cascade down her right shoulder in beautiful waves. "Did you just get here, Monsieurs?"

Hermione spoke a lot of French when around the pureblooded men. She found they enjoyed it. Being born and raised in Paris until the age of five, she spoke it fluently. Her great-grandmother by seven generations was Antoinette Chanel, sister to the iconic Gabrielle Chanel.

"Yes, actually, we did. We've come to discuss business with Rodolphus." Blaise nodded and turned his head, looking at Draco.

"Oh? Business? Perhaps I should go then." She made to stand, but her Master's hand on her shoulder stopped her. Her eyebrows furrowed in perfect confusion. It was Blaise who spoke.

"You may stay, Miss Granger. After all, you are our Cortigiane Oneste" Hermione adjusted herself again, nodding once.

"Very well, Monsieurs. If you are sure." In reality, Hermione was ecstatic that they allowed her to stay. It was one of the perks that came with being the Honest Courtesan. A Cortigiane Oneste was a courtesan - a prostitute in every sense of the word - but different from the others. She was chosen for her intellect, her personality, her wit, to be where she was now. There were only a few Cortigiane Oneste in the Wizarding world. They were usually well-educated and chosen on the basis of their "breeding"—social and conversational skills, intelligence, common-sense, and companionship—as well as their physical attributes. They were prostitutes in the sense that sex was an obligation, but unlike the others, sex was only a piece of what they did. The Honest Courtesan were expected to be well-dressed and ready to engage in topics ranging from art to music to politics.

Hermione knew that she was all these things. When she was first captured, she was- in now way- a virgin. She had lost her virginity to Michael Corner in the library her sixth year. She had been so angry at Ron, she hasn't realized what she'd been doing and one thing led to another. Michael was sweet about it, he helped her with her guilt and they remained friends after the incident. That is, until the Battle. Fenrir Greyback had his throat in his teeth before she could mutter a spell.

"Whose home have you come from, Miss Granger?" Lucius' voice shook her out of her thoughts and she smiled, turning her head to the eldest Malfoy. "We were told you'd be here before we arrived…"

"I came from the Dolohov Estate. As you know it's quite a long ways from here and the apparition point takes ten minutes to get to if you're walking. I've never been one for flying and even if I did, I don't have a broom." Gordon Lefevre opened his mouth to speak and she smiled. "As you well know, the Dark Lord has cut off all of the Floo Networks in town after the Order's last incident. Walking was my only option." It felt like poison on her tongue, calling him "the Dark Lord," but at least now, she didn't make a face whenever she did say it. After months of saying it, it no longer sounded strained. She could fool them all, she felt. Even Lord Voldemort himself. Of course, she wouldn't tell that to anybody. "So, tell me, what type of business are you all discussing that I should be around for it?"

Draco shifted at that, looking around at the others. "Granger, there's a reason that we chose _you_ as our Honest Courtesan. You're intelligent, you're witty, you've got everything that a Cortigiane Oneste should have."

"Although I do appreciate you flattering my ego, Mr. Malfoy, do get on with it, my energy was exerted so much today and the walk didn't help." She couldn't help but smirk as they all shifted in their seats at her words. She bit her lip, sitting against the back of the chair.

"Right. Uh, see the thing is, many of the muggleborns are contracting diseases. Being so promiscuous, it's starting to take a toll on them and some have even…died." Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Draco, this time really confused. "We need your help in creating a potion, would that would help heal them."

"Help heal them? Monsieurs, this is…." She stood, crossing her arms, standing before the fireplace, "You're asking me to help reverse a disease? It's impossible. Even with the best of potions, you can't reverse it."

"Well, don't reverse it, then!" Draco stood angrily. "but at least help them get through it. People are dying here, Granger."

Hermione let out a laugh, shocking them all, angering the young Malfoy even more. It wasn't a false laugh, it was genuine, it was real. She found him funny. "Oh, Draco. Why on Merlin's name should I help you? My people are dying and I couldn't be happier. At least they get to get away from this hellhole!" She looked at them and grinned. "What? What did you think I would assist you? Why? Because they'll live? I don't care! I hate this place, I hate this world and I'm not afraid to say it. If they die, at least they die by their own immune system, not because some pureblooded bastard beat them to death!"

"This is unlike anything we've ever seen, Granger!" Draco was shaking in anger now, standing before her. "No potion has helped heal them, no muggle medicine has stopped it! These women are dying and you're going to let them? It could be you next time!"

"I don't care! I don't give a damn! Let me die along with them!" She snapped, shoving past him. "Nothing you say will make me help you. Nothing at all." She made for the door, but was stopped by an arm around her waist. She hadn't even noticed Rodolphus beside her.

"Miss Granger-"

"No!" She shook her head. "I said no!"

He nodded, looking at the others, his hand up as if it was the only thing keeping them up. "Alright. Alright. I swear we won't ask you again. If you ever change your mind," Hermione opened her mouth to retort, he cut her off right away. "If you do, Miss Granger, the offer will stand. Now apologize to Mr. Malfoy." She rose a brow, hesitating. "That's an order."

Sighing, she turned on her heel, looking at Draco. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I did not mean to lose my temper. It was a terrible thing for me to do. I hope you can forgive me." She held her hands out to him and he, obviously reluctant, took them. "Merci, Monsieur." She pressed her lips to his knuckles and bit gently, lifting her head again. "Monsieurs." She nodded her head at them and turned back to Rodolphus. "Might I head to bed, Master? I've over exerted myself today."

Rodolphus nodded and she did a low curtsey. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Hermione." She nodded and stood, lifting herself on her toes to press a kiss to his lips. "Goodnight."

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Hermione headed up the stairs to her room, which was on the topmost floor. It was the second biggest in the entire Chateau, Rodolphus' being the first. As she entered, she slipped out of her robe, running her hands over her lingerie. Her chest was rising and falling faster than normal, she had been so angry at Draco. She hated him so much. How could he be so insufferable? She let out a cough, her hand on her stomach. Why couldn't she breath?

Her fingers worked on the ribbon holding her corset closed and ripped it off of herself, falling to the floor. "RODOLPHUS!" She yelled his name out, hoping he'd hear her, knowing he would. Even though they were on different floors, he would know she was calling him. She brought her hand to her lips, coughing roughly into it. She looked down at it, looking at the red liquid in it. She felt her hands fall from beneath her and her eyelids growing heavy. "Ro…Ro.." Her voice fluttered away as she fell to her side, eyes closed.

That was how Rodolphus found her when he burst into her room, unconscious and with blood on her hands and lips.

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A/N Thank you for reading. I had this in my head and have NOT abandoned any of my other projects. Please REVIEW!


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